


Christmas Lights and Evergreen

by knlalla



Series: quick fics [10]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, just dnp bein cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: insp by dnp bein cute n walkin around town seeing holiday displays n stufffor the lovely Ashling (@phanarchy) happy holidays dear!





	Christmas Lights and Evergreen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phanarchy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanarchy/gifts).



Phil's a lot like Christmas lights, Dan thinks.

He's not like the kind that you could probably call fairy lights any other day of the year, the whites or yellows that're the same color all down the string, more like the multicolored masses that he's always found a bit tacky but ultimately remind him of Christmas more than anything else about the season.

And they remind him of _Phil_ \- not by virtue of being tacky, although that does add to the case, but because they're bright and colorful and elicit an inexplicably warm feeling in his chest.

It's the kind he has right now, staring at Phil silhouetted by the myriad of Christmas light displays along the pavement; perhaps that's why he made the connection, although the pinpoints of color pale in comparison to Phil.

"Dan?" Phil asks, but Dan's just staring. Of course he is - he gets sappy, and he hates that he does because _god_ how embarrassing, but he can't help it. It's nights like tonight that drag him back through the landscape of time to the day they'd filmed the Christmas adventure, all snow and wet clothes and silly endings that Dan hadn't even questioned because it was _Phil_ asking to film them, it was _Phil_ standing there and grinning that goofy grin with a camera pointed at him, it was _Phil_.

It's always been Phil, hasn't it?

"Hm?" He finally remembers that Phil's said something, the way his brows are quirked up and his lips are parted as he stares back at Dan.

"Are you coming? Or did you want to look at this display a little longer?" Phil glances back over his shoulder toward the array of Christmas trees that Dan's not even really bothered to notice. Phil's been far more interesting to look at - his skin reflects shades of red and blue and green, and his eyes sparkle alongside the lights.

It's sappy and cheesy and Dan sort of wants to gag at his own thoughts but ' _Phil outshines all the Christmas lights'_ flits through his head before he can stop it. Phil turns halfway back to Dan, then, his lip curled in a smile; it’s the same kind he's had on all evening, bright and full of wonder.

"Pretty, right?" Phil asks, and Dan can feel his smile widening to match Phil's grin.

"Yeah."

\-----------------------------

If Phil had to pick, he'd say Dan's a Christmas tree.

Not the kind decorated with a hundred lights and ornaments (at least, not always, not unless he really wants to be) but more the kind you might find while wandering through the forest - ironically - late in the afternoon, wading through snowdrifts in search of the 'perfect' Christmas tree to chop down and drag home.

After passing quite a few that look _almost_ right, just slightly too tall or too short or too _whatever_ , this one would appear in the path, haloed by the setting sun and cast into a dark shade of green that might appear black if you were standing too far back.

But Phil gets to stand close, as close as he wants, so he takes a step toward Dan and appreciates him for the colors he gets to see. Dan's _subtle,_ that's just how he is, not exceptionally vibrant until you get him in just the right light, catch him at just the right time.

He looks that way now, Phil thinks, with the soft kind of smile on his lips and the warm glow of the Christmas lights surrounding him.

"Should we go? Cornelia and Martyn'll be waiting," Phil says, even though he could stand and stare at Dan for an eternity and never get bored. Dan would probably say there's _layers_ to him, make some Shrek pun, but Phil sees him more like a tree: branches and needles and all sorts of things, and Phil can't always see how they’re connected but Dan knows it down in his soul.

In place of an answer, Dan just turns in the direction of the theater, so Phil follows. Of course he does, he'd follow Dan to the ends of the earth and back if he asked. Fortunately, he’s only asking to go down the street.

Colors bounce off the curls of Dan’s hair, tint the tips of his ears that he's refused to hide under a hat in spite of the cold. He'd gotten his hair just right, hadn't wanted to mess it up, and Phil couldn't argue with that.

Some days, Dan's the kind of Christmas tree you find in the middle of a forest, and it's exactly what you were looking for but you can't bear to chop it down, can't bear to change it at its core. So you leave it, and you return the next morning with a bag full to the brim with tinsel and ornaments and decorations and a sparkling star to place at the top of the tree even though you've got no idea how you'll get up there but it just felt incomplete not to bring it. He's the kind of tree you don't want to change, you just want to exist in its presence and help it shine. 

It only takes a moment for Phil to catch up, then he's walking right beside Dan, the sleeve of his jacket brushing against the sleeve of Dan's. Winter air floats around them both, but they’re inside a little bubble where Phil can feel the warmth radiating off Dan and it doesn't matter that Phil’s hands are a bit chilly and he probably should've brought gloves because he _feels_ warm.

Warm on the inside, like drinking hot chocolate while curled up against Dan on the sofa and under their biggest blanket, their Christmas tree lighting up the corner of their lounge and a holiday-scented candle lighting up their coffee table. Warm like their home.

\--------------------------

There's something about this time of year that gets to Dan - it used to have a negative connotation, the lights and music and way-too-giddy laughter from passersby - but that was before Phil.

Now he has a _reason_ , he _knows_ that giddiness, he feels it when he glances over to find Phil right beside him, cheeks dusted red from the chill and forehead and hair tucked up under a matching-colored hat. _Phil_ has an unreasonably easy time fixing his hair if it's been messed up, of course, so he doesn’t have to concern himself with whether or not he can keep his ears warm.

Then Phil turns, catches Dan's eye, and he feels like a disgustingly in-love eighteen-year-old again, cold and hot all at the same time in the middle of winter and lost in Phil's eyes. It's a flash of a feeling he gets every now and then, one that threatens to overwhelm him the same way it did all those years ago, but he lets it fade into a warmth in his chest. It doesn't overwhelm him, Phil doesn't overwhelm him.

Even after _nine years_ , Phil doesn't overwhelm him, somehow. Maybe _because_ he's all different colors, reds and oranges when he's mid-game and leaning into his competitive streak, bright yellows when he's excited, when he's laughing. Green when he's in business mode, curt and methodical and brilliant and focused. Blues and purples late in the evening, early in the morning, when Dan's lucky enough to catch him half asleep. Sometimes pink, when he looks at Dan the way he's looking now, full of love.

\--------------------------

A tree suits Dan, especially a pine of some sort. Something with needles.

Not because he's prickly and pokey, although he's definitely that on occasion, but because there are so many little bits and pieces to him. Dan is so _much_ , so full and nuanced and Phil wonders if he'll ever know every single branch, every single needle.

He's sure some of those needles have fallen off over time, he _knows_ they have, and yet Dan is still Dan, still _his_ Dan, in his entirety. He's still the tree- the _person_ Phil fell in love with all those years ago. He hasn't changed, even though he's changed so massively. He's just growing, becoming more himself.

They go on in silence for a while, Phil lost in his head, in the idea of Dan, as snippets of miscellaneous Christmas songs drift into his ears. They pass shop after shop, and Phil thinks this is it, this is how it should be. This is how he wants it to be, his whole life, with Dan. He wants his whole life _with Dan_ , whoever Dan becomes, whoever they become together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading lovelies! Feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/181493279497/christmas-lights-and-evergreen-fic)


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